


I Against I

by sellswordking



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 10:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2065041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sellswordking/pseuds/sellswordking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one ever says the right things anyway. It's part of their charm. Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Confused

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a collection of fucked up angst and horribleness that kept going, I'm so sorry.

Blue base is mostly quiet at night, except for the moaning.

“ _Church_.”

 He grips sweat slick skin and tries to ignore the breathy whimpers that have been steadily getting louder. It doesn’t matter. He said it doesn’t matter so it  _doesn’t_. He said he would do this.

“ _Church,_ ”

It’s drawn out this time, and he thrusts harder in hope of just making the kid stop talking. He doesn’t need to hear it, but  _he said he would do this_.

Fingers worm their way through his hair and pull. They don’t bring his head up, they don’t try to angle him in for a kiss. Not since the first time, it had been awkward and they seemed to agree not to try again. The kid’s built like a brick wall, his chest is thick with muscle that is impossibly maintained. It’s so easy to hide his face, pretend that he’s okay with doing this.

“ _Church, p-please._ ”

Caboose tenses up and  _finally_  goes quiet. His moans, his whimpers are all caught in his throat. He can feel every vibration against his mouth as he fights to keep from making sounds other than indiscernible grunts. When Caboose falls back, orgasm subsided, body slack against the regulation bed, he finally pulls away.

When he gets to come, it’s with a few quick pulls of his own hand and a quiet sound, almost like being kicked in the gut.

What he hates most about this is how good it feels. It’s only because it’s been so long since someone touched him, he knows that,  _clings_  to it desperately because the alternative is admitting that he  _wants_ Caboose.

Caboose gets up from the bed and pulls on his pajama pants, ignoring the mess between his thighs and the ache that he must be feeling. It never seems to phase him, but then again, nothing does.

"Goodnight!"

He doesn’t watch Caboose leave because he’s already in way,  _way_  too deep. It’s not malicious, he knows that.

Caboose is just … confused.

By a lot of things.

Besides. It’s not like it’s the worst Wash has ever been treated.


	2. And Confusing

"Alright, dude, I seriously tried to let it go, but what the fuck are you doing?"

Tucker hopped up on the table and waited for his answer. Wash swore under his breath. He knew morning would be the best time to accost Wash, mostly because Wash wouldn’t be expecting anyone else to be out of bed yet.

"Well. I’m trying to get a caffeine boost so I’m better equipped to deal with you people. Why aren’t you still passed out cold?” Wash turned and rose an eyebrow. “And get off there. We eat on that table.”

Tucker rolled his eyes and ignored the half-hearted command. “I’m being serious, why are you doing it?”

"Doing  _what_ , Tucker?” Wash just wanted him to get to the point so he would  _leave_.

"Doing _Caboose_.”

Wash choked.

"I mean, seriously, I know that it’s probably been a while since you’ve gotten any—"

"Drop it." All remains of sleep had drained away from Wash’s face, his eyes hard and promising  _severe_ consequences if Tucker didn’t abandon his line of questioning.

Tucker wasn’t exactly the smartest guy, though.

"Wash. These walls aren’t that thick. I hear that idiot whine for—" For once, Tucker seemed to stop and think about what he wanted to say. "I can just hear him, alright? What the fuck are you doing this for? Like, do you actually  _like_  him? Is it because we “saved” you or whatever? Because we’ve done a lot of shit man, but this is  _seriously_  fucked up.”

It looked like Tucker was being genuine, but Wash didn’t answer him. Couldn’t. It wasn’t any of Tucker’s business, he told himself when he walked away. They were adults, they could make their own decisions, he thought when shutting his door. 

Sitting on his bed, he couldn’t lie. A tension headache began to form behind his eyes and Wash leaned forward over his half empty mug.

Tucker just had to open his mouth, and  _now_  Wash couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Mostly because he was right on all accounts.


	3. Clarity*

Caboose was waiting for him after his shower.

Wash gave him a tired smile and tried to hide how  _exhausted_  he was. Not physically, but just from …  _whatever_  they had going on. His little chat with Tucker certainly hadn’t helped, Wash had been avoiding them both since that morning. But the base wasn’t big. He knew he’d be cornered at some point, better to just deal with it.

"Hey buddy." Wash sat next to him on the bed, not bothering to put his clothes on. Might as well save a step. "You need something?"

"Ah … no." Caboose picked at the fabric of his shorts, pensive. Wash just wanted him to say what he needed, get into bed, and then leave. It was  _all_  bitter now, and part of him blamed Tucker for that. It was so much easier when he could just  _pretend_. Why couldn’t they just  _let him have this_? Caboose needed it,  _he_  had needed it even for all that it hurt. But he should have expected this. It’s not the first thing he’s had taken away, not even the first taken by his own team. _  
_

It wasn’t often, but just _sometimes_ , he regretted staying with the blues. Letting them save him felt … too much like a mistake.

"Wash?" Caboose called. Wash realized the guy must’ve been trying to get his attention for a while.

"Sorry Caboose. It’s been a long day. What did you need?"

"I don’t think we should have sex anymore." 

Wash started. “What?” He had been dreading the first move seconds ago but now, now he felt  _sick_. Now he wanted more than anything to try and kiss Caboose again, because he  _couldn’t_  lose all of it, even if he hated himself it was still the best thing he’d had in  _so long_.

"I asked Tucker why you didn’t want to play games anymore, and he said it was because you were depressed about not being my best friend, and I don’t want you to be sad." Caboose wouldn’t look him in the eye, and Wash fought against the urge to punch him.

It wasn’t Caboose’s fault.

It  _wasn’t_.

 _Wash_  was the one who had suggested it in the first place when he saw the way Caboose had looked at him.

"So. You want to stop completely." Wash’s voice was flat.

"Yes. I’m sorry I made you pretend to be Church." Caboose sounded so painfully genuine, but Wash had already shut down.

"Alright, I understand. We’ll stop." Wash stood and went to his closet. "I’m going to bed now, okay? You should too."

Caboose got up and for a moment it looked like he was going to reach for Wash, but instead he went for the door.

"Goodnight, Wash."

He was so tentative, it almost made Wash feel bad. Not enough to force him to answer, but almost.

The door shut and Wash almost broke his hand punching the wall controls to his closet.

So that was it. Now he was back to  _nothing_ , feeling more sick and used than he had when he was actually screwing Caboose as a placeholder.

Wash didn’t know what he was going to do, how he was going to get through the next few days, but he  _did_  know one thing.  _Someone_  was going to  _pay_.

_God help Lavernius Tucker._


	4. Opaque

Tucker regretted everything.

Wash was spread on top of him, drenched in sweat and come and too much lube, hips only grinding down in little twitches to stimulate his raw nerves. It had been  _two fucking hours_  since the guy had come in with  _fire_  in his eyes and Tucker had never been more terrified or blueballed in his life. Under an extremely  _painful_  sounding threat (shit that Tucker expected from someone like Tex maybe, how the hell did he manage  _that_?), Tucker wasn’t allowed to come, he wasn’t allowed to touch unless Wash made him, and above  _everything_  else, he was  _not_  allowed to make a sound.

And okay, maybe  _that_  he understood, because this whole thing was kind of his fault for fucking up a good thing. But hey, he  _cared_! was that so wrong? Wash looked worse than his usual all the time and Caboose was too stupid to put it together, so he had stepped in.

Fuck, was he  _paying_  for it now.

In two hours, he’d jerked, sucked, fingered, and fucked Wash to more orgasms than he’d thought physically possible in such a short time, and the guy was  _still going_. Like everything else he was turning fucking into a goddamn endurance run, and the worst of it was that Tucker couldn’t even stay mad.

It picked up again, and Wash was riding him so hard he could already feel the bruises. Tucker grabbed the sheets and the bedframe and  _everything_  that wasn’t Wash, desperate to just see the  _end_  of it. It was so  _hot_  he could feel his brain melting out of his ears, and Tucker bit down on his lip for dear life. He wanted to scream, he wanted to let the whole goddamn world know who was going to literally  _kill_  him with amazing sex, but he also wouldn’t dare fuck up his chances of Wash finishing off with him.

“ _Tucker_.” His eyes opened from where he had shut them and almost choked. _  
_

Wash was _wrecked_. His eyes were blown wide and he was looking up, showing off his freckles, his scars, the welts where he had been scratching  _himself_  up trying to hold on. His blond hair, grown out and greying stuck to his face if it wasn’t standing up where Wash had been pulling it seconds before, and his lips were already black and blue as a combined effort. The first twenty minutes alone had been aggressive necking and Wash learning exactly how to kiss Tucker to make him arch up and beg.

Tucker couldn’t help himself anymore. He reached up, grabbed Wash by the hips and kept him moving. His numb lips had fallen into a litany of filth, every single thought that had crossed his mind about Wash’s body spilled out and it was like watching a house collapse after burning from the bottom up.

Wash came in a weak pulse, but it sounded like the pleasure was actually  _killing_  him. He didn’t say a name,only made a guttural,  _animal_  sound that echoed around them. All those weeks listening from a room over and never  _once_  had Tucker heard Wash make a sound like that.

Finally it was Tucker’s turn, and he used every ounce of power he had left in his shaking legs to flip them over so he could be above Wash, buried in him and surrounding him. He took both legs and practically bent Wash in half, even though it would only last a few more seconds. They would be  _glorious_  seconds, he would fucking  _own_  Wash for them.

Tucker went  _numb_ , all he could hear was the pulse pounding in his ears and a faint notion that he had only somehow fucked up  _more_. One thing was certain, though. Even without being aware of it, he  _knew_  what he had said.

Wash shoved him off so hard Tucker fell off the bed and landed on the floor. He barely bothered putting his pants on before nearly running from the room.

It was silent for a few seconds, Tucker just laid face down looking at the dust and old boxers under his bed. Finally, Tucker managed to find words for the empty room.

"I thought you  _wanted_  someone to say your name.” 


End file.
